Completely Over You
by dhbPATHWAY1997
Summary: Alfred and Arthur broke up seven months ago. That's MORE than enough time to get over an ex-love, right? Sure! So when Alfred invites Arthur to lunch, the latter is determined to show Alfred that he is completely over him. Mostly. T for sexual themes.


I was gently stirring my cup of tea when I heard my mobile phone vibrate in the living room. Wondering who it could be, and hoping to God it wasn't my old friend-slash-enemy Francis Bonnefoy, I set my tea down on the counter and went to retrieve my phone. If his name hadn't been at the top of the message, his grammar (or lack therof) identified him immediately as Alfred Jones.

Something stirred in my heart thinking and seeing that name, but I tried to ignore it.

"Hey, artie! I was wnderin if sumtime ud like 2 go out 2 lunch and catch up. How bout it? :)"

That thing stirred again. My stomach did a little flip, and my chest began to hurt. He couldn't possibly be meaning to _ask me out_or anything, but what could he mean? Did he really just want to catch up? It _had_ been a while since we'd broken up... The memories were still painful to me. Several gifts and articles of clothing of Alfred's that sat around my flat were a daily reminder of the relationship we'd kept up for over two years. It was neither of our faults that we'd broken up. Or maybe both of us were to blame. There had just been so much arguing and war between us that we couldn't take it anymore. He'd officially ended it, but I'd been more than happy to agree for once - at the time. Just days later, I was in tears, wishing I could take it all back but knowing that I couldn't. The one person I'd ever loved like that...gone... And it was my fault. Yeah, did I say it wasn't either of our faults? That's another thing that ended our relationship - neither of us could ever say the right thing. We could never get across to the other what it was we were trying to convey, and that made communication obviously rather strained.

And speaking of strained communication, how was I supposed to reply to this?

Hmm... Maturity. I could be mature. Plus, I hadn't talked to Alfred in almost seven months. _He_ didn't know whether I had completely moved on or not. _He_ didn't know how well I was doing! Which was _perfectly_ well, thank you very much! Perfectly! Was it a little lonely around the house? Sometimes. Did I wish there was someone here to make things a little more lively? Occasionally. Did I have a box full of nearly two hundred letters I'd written to Alfred after we'd broken up? ...Yes. Yeah, okay, I did. But honestly, I'd gotten very dramatic after we'd split up, and I'd had this notion that I would never see or talk to him again. Obviously, my logical side kicked in after a while, telling me that it wasn't like he'd moved to Canada or anything. He was still here, locally, we just didn't see each other every day anymore. Oh, well, anyway, I could use maturity, no matter how false it was. It would impress him. And myself, probably.

"I see that your grammar is as horrible as always," I typed, smirking. "All right, maybe noon today? At the old café two blocks from the-" I erased _the_ and instead typed _my_, "-my apartment? You know the one."

"Okidoki! C u l8r, dude! :D" I got back a few moments after sending my own message.

I smiled at his ridiculous emoticon and went back to my nearly-cool tea. I had two hours until I was supposed to meet Alfred, and I was going to keep calm. This was no big deal. Lunch with an old friend, that was it. We _had_ been friends before we dated. But our relationship had ruined the friendship we'd had. Surely it wouldn't be such a bad thing to try and reestablish it? Of course not. This was a very good thing. So I sat in front of the tele and sipped at my tea for quite a while until I noticed the time: half-past eleven.

"Oh, bloody hell!" I cried, leaping out of my rocking chair, nearly throwing my empty teacup and saucer into the sink and wincing when it clinked against the china. I threw on a jumper over my button-up shirt and slipped into a pair of loafers, then grabbed my keys and ran out of the door, with fifteen minutes to get down to the café.

I wasn't going to be so undignified as to run down the street, so I walked _briskly_, trying my best not to bump into people and watching out for Alfred. I kept glancing at my watch so fervently and frequently that it must have looked like I had an overdramatic tick, but when there were two minutes to go, I had the café in sight. I sped up just a bit the last few steps and got there with thirty seconds to spare - perfect punctuality. Alfred, however, was not there, and I should have realized that he would be late. I could have spared a couple of minutes. Well...oh well. I glanced inside of the café's front window to make sure he wasn't inside, then sat at a table on the patio and waited.

I was only there for a few moments when Alfred jogged up. He certainly was a sight... He was everything I remembered him to be, from head-to-toe, except he might have lost a little weight. But as he got closer, I could see that his hair was the same colour of dirty blonde, his eyes were their same unique cerulean hue and his skin was still as rosy as it had always been. One of the earpieces on his glasses was bent, which I would _have_ to nag him for, and the collared, button-up shirt he was wearing, while more admittedly impressive than an _Adventure Time_ t-shirt, was wrinkled with a miniscule stain on the collar. He saw me waiting and grinned lopsidedly, and I felt heat rise in my cheeks. My heart literally skipped a beat, which worried me briefly, but I ignored it for the most part and stood up to greet him.

"Hey, Arthur!" he exclaimed.

"Hello," I returned. I glanced at my watch. "You're late," I noted. "By three minutes."

"I know, I know, I'm sorrry. Traffic was horrible from my end," he explained. "I would have been later, but I left early just in case."

When he was near enough, he pulled me into a hug, surprising me. It was brief, and not overly warm, but I was able to inhale his scent of hamburgers and cheap cologne and feel his muscular arms encircle me tenderly. I was right - he had lost weight. I had barely managed to put my arms around his back in return before he was stepping away, suggesting we go inside. I agreed and we went inside to order lunch. We both got turkey sandwiches with a few toppings for me and a thousand for him, tea for myself and soda for Alfred.

"So, what's been up lately, man?" Alfred asked as soon as we sat back down at the table outside. "How's your writing going?"

"Oh, it's...slow," I admitted. "It's taking a lot more research than I'd first anticipated, but it should be finished by the end of next year at most, I'd say."

"Wow, that's great! Tell me when it comes out, and I'll buy a copy, 'kay? Maybe I can even get it signed, too?" he winked.

"Sure," I replied, taking a sip of tea. It wasn't as good as I made it, but, well, that was hard to beat. "And how about you?" I inquired. "You look like you've lost weight."

"Oh..." Alfred looked down. "Yeah. Maybe a little. Been eating a little less lately."

"You?" I asked incredulously. "'Eating a little less'? I never thought I'd see the day!"

Alfred laughed. "Yeah, yeah, yeah... I've been pretty busy, though. I've actually started working with Mattie to open a web-design business.

"Really? That's incredible! How's it going?" I asked, genuinely interested.

"Ah, well, there's a _ton_ of legal crap, which obviously I should have seen coming," Alfred rolled his eyes good-naturedly, "but besides that, which Mattie deals with a lot, things are going pretty smoothly. We've already got two prospective clients, actually, and we haven't even named our business."

"Well, good, you're finding success! I remember in college, when you weren't sure what you wanted to do. Didn't you consider being a policeman?"

"I did!" he laughed. "And a fireman, and a lawyer, which now I know would have been horrible."

We were doing it - we were small-talking. The funny thing was, I was enjoying it thoroughly. I wanted to hear all about the business and what Alfred and Matthew would be doing once it was opened officially. But I figured he wouldn't really want to talk about that, and besides, it could take hours for him to explain it all.

"Speaking of Matthew, how is he?" I asked. "I haven't seen him in quite a while! Is he still dating Francis?"

"Oh, yeah!" Alfred grinned. "In fact, we're gonna start hearing wedding bells soon."

My eyes widened. "What?"

"Yeah! Maybe I shouldn't be telling you, but Francis told me a couple of weeks ago that he's just trying to find the right time to propose."

"Oh, that's so sweet," I gushed. "He's so lucky."

"You're definitely coming to the wedding, okay?" Alfred asked.

"All right, all right," I muttered. "As if I would miss it."

Talking about Matthew's and Francis's relationship, which had now been going on about a year longer than Alfred's and mine had, got me thinking, and remembering, and reminiscing. I wondered: had Alfred been dating? Surely! He'd always been a romantic, sweet boy, catching the attention of boys and girls alike. But I couldn't ask him...that would be awkward... You couldn't ask your ex if they'd been seeing anyone!

"So what about you, Artie? You been seeing anyone?" Alfred asked casually.

Hmm. I guess you could.

I blushed. "Oh. Well, no. I've been busy with work and all that, you know." I hesitated, then, "H-how about you?"

"Nah. Haven't had time or motivation. Seems pointless, I guess." Alfred stared contemplatively at his Coke before taking a sip, not elaborating.

"I understand," I said, and I did. That led to a bit of a silence, in which I fidgeted a little and Alfred just kept staring at his drink.

Then he looked up. "Arthur, it's time to be honest. How have you been?"

"Honest?" I asked, trying to sound innocent.

"Completely honest. Hold nothing back, I won't judge you for it. Just please, please tell me. How have you been?" His expression was nothing but genuine and serious, but his eyes were pleading. I wondered why he wanted to know so badly...

I sighed. "I've been fine, really. The flat's a little lonely, and every time I take the lift I hear you singing your song about the buttons. When I write, I think about how you would read parts of it out loud in strange voices and horrible accents. There are days with significance to our relationship where I just can't be happy. There are times when I want to call you just to hear your voice." Once I started speaking, I couldn't stop, and things I'd never meant to say came out. "I've written so many letters to you explaining exactly how I felt that I'll never send to you. I don't look through high school yearbooks anymore, or photo albums in general, really. If I come across something that was yours, I wonder if I should throw it our or keep it forever." I looked up at Alfred to see a strange, unidentifiable emotion on his his features. "But," I started again, and this is what I was here to say. I didn't know if it was really true or not, but I would work to make it true, maybe for just a few more months, or a few years. "But I know someday that I'll be okay again. I know that once I get a cat or something, I won't be as lonely, and then I can move on. Maybe I'll find a secretary at a publishing agency to love, or something. But please don't feel guilty, Alfred, because none of it's your fault. The end of our relationship, my unhappiness afterwards, it's all because of me. So please don't worry. The truth is, I don't want to love you anymore. It's pointless and painful. Whenever I find myself wishing that you would come back, I stop myself, because I know how stupid it is. That's how it's been, and that's how it'll be for a while, but I'll be okay. Don't worry."

I was a bit surprised that I wasn't crying. I felt like I should be. I'd just unleased a torrent of emotional luggage I'd been carrying around for seven months, and I was extremely nervous about Alfred's reaction. He would probably say he'd been dating three or four girls at a time for months, and, being a good guy, he would of course feel bad that I still had feelings for him. But I did. I missed him. I wanted to hold him in bed like I used to, when his hair was messy and he was warm all over. I wished for the days when we would cook together so I wouldn't kill us both and Alfred could try for something healthy in his diet. I missed going out to do whatever we felt like on a Sunday afternoon, holding hands and casting each other loving, flirtacious glances every other moment. But I could move on, because I was strong.

Finally, Alfred's expression cleared and was left with just...pain. Damn... I'd done this. His conscience couldn't take it.

"I'm sorry, Alfred. I shouldn't have said anything!" I said hurriedly. "I'll be fine, really. It's not your fault, it's not anything you can help."

He looked intensely into my eyes and I could see tears there, pulling at my heartstrings and making me feel a little sick with regret. "Arthur...God, Arthur... Mattie's gonna move out soon, and he's the only person making my life not completely miserable. The business is a distraction, really, 'cause if I'm not thinking about something complicated like licensing agreements and copyright agreements, I'd be crying. I still sing my stupid elevator button song, but my neighbors don't like it like you did. I listen to old voicemails you left me ages ago so I can hear your voice. I look at old pictures all the time to see you and I together. Whenever I come across something that was yours, I hold onto it and remember, and I regret everything we fought about. I've never tried to get over you. I've always hoped time would do the trick. But it hasn't, and God, I miss you." Alfred gulped back tears, and my eyes widened. "You'll be okay one day without me, 'cause you're strong, but I will never be okay without you, Arthur. I still love you, and I will until the day that I die. You are the best thing that ever happened to me and the day I walked away...well that was the stupidest thing I've ever done. I hate myself for it every day. If I could have held in there...maybe if we'd gotten some help, or just worked on compromising...I'm so sorry, Arthur. I am so, so sorry. There is _nothing_ I can say. You don't need to say anything. But...I still love you, Arthur. I really only asked you to meet me today because I've missed you so much. I needed to see you."

I stared at him. "You're...you're not serious."

"I am," he insisted. "I am dead-serious."

"Why...why didn't you ever call?" I asked accusitorily.

"I thought you would have moved on! You were so in-control and sure of yourself! I thought you would be fine..."

"Well...I'm not," I admitted. "I'm such a liar. My life is just...I miss you. I love you, Alfred."

Alfred suddenly leaned across the table and kissed me, like he hadn't in so long. I felt like I was melting. He cupped my face with one hand and I put my hand on his neck, bringing him closer. I could feel it in his posture than he wanted more than just a kiss, but we were in a very public place. I sat back, separating us.

"Let's go back to my place."

Alfred hurriedly agreed and we both threw some money on the table, jumping up and joining hands, and we began walking quickly and jogging, in some places, to get back to my flat. A part of my mind that wasn't ecstatic to the point of tears and internal combustion sighed, muttering, "There goes your resolve..."

I didn't care.

About a half hour later, I got what I wanted earlier. I was cradled against Alfred's bare chest in my bed, the bed we'd once shared regularly, and I could feel his rapid breath in my hair. I stroked his chest and arms, reveling in the feeling of being back _here_.

"So," Alfred said once he'd caught his breath a little better. "You over me yet?"

"Oh, yes, love," I told him. "Completely over you."


End file.
